walls
by glitter cordite
Summary: And now they were here. Eren gone, the Scouting Legion in a state of emergency, and her whole world crumbling around her like Wall Maria. slightly au/spoiler free/oneshot


**disclaimer:** all i own is an inane amount of nailpolish and the complete works of amy winehouse.

**because: **giselle is the best beta ever, and puts up with me writing small lectures on Stanislavski in my notes. (also because these two make me all kinds of flaily.)

**f y and also i: **this contains sexual fun times, just a heads up.

* * *

If nothing else, Jean Kirschtein was an observant individual. Even before joining the military he had been inclined to observe and make note of things ranging from what birds frequented his windowsill to the way that Berthold looked at Annie. It was a skill that had served him well, allowing him (with his quick wit and crooked grin) to weasel his way out of many a tight spot. He was proud of it, in a way, his being able to watch, learn and _read_ people. (The Jaeger boy sure as hell couldn't do that.) But there were also times like tonight, where it simply broke his heart.

Sitting across the fire from him, shoulders hunched and head of dark hair hung, was Mikasa Ackerman. Her maneuver gear and harnesses had been removed along with the rest of their squad's as they had filed into the scouting legion's encampment; now she sat in front of the fire, head in her hands, elbows on her knees. (Looking more broken than Jean had ever had the horror of seeing her before.) He made note of her irregular breathing, and the way her toes pointed inwards, physicality that he had never associated with her before.

Steeling his resolve and rolling his shoulders, the tawny man stood, and with purposeful strides, made his way around the bonfire towards her. Stopping when the scuffed toes of his boots stood in line with her own.

"Mikasa, spar with me?"

Grey eyes (far too bright, slightly red rimmed. Sad eyes.) snapped up to meet his own. Small hands came together to move with frenetic energy, as Jean fell under scrutiny.

A second passed, and then a few more.

The young soldier shifted his feet, wondering if the electricity he felt in the air (_pricking along his neck and arms, making him hyperaware of the woman before him_) was, in fact, just a meteorological happenstance. (_Could Mikasa feel it too?)_ After what felt like an eternity, the dark girl rose, eyes still downcast. Tentatively Jean brought his hand to the small of her back and she let him lead her away.

* * *

Control was something Mikasa had in spades; it was part of her character. Carefully regulating her emotions and reactions had become a second nature like the steady thrum of her heart or the expansion and collapse of her lungs. On the battlefield it was the most lethal tool in her arsenal (_don't look don't look that's another comrade down). _Off the battlefield it served as a buffer to keep anyone from getting too close. Lest she begin to care for them, and by extension, protect them. (A few slipped through the cracks anyways, though they may not know it.) Still, she wielded control much like her blades, and it served her well.

Until Eren was involved. Then everything crumbled away until she was nothing more than a girl with a facade. (A facade that she was finding harder and harder to maintain.)

Suddenly, emotions she had been repressing (loneliness, fear, desperation, _attraction_) rushed to the surface in a turgid mass that made her stomach churn. All the moments she had tried to forget (_smiles caught across the mess hall, silent reassurance when Eren wasn't looking_) rose prominently in her mind until they stood against all the rest. (_Harsh words and gaping mouths and so much blood_)

This was the state that the young Ackerman found herself in as she sat in front of the fire, walls crumbling around her. Physical walls, mental walls, walls she had constructed so goddamn carefully between herself and her peers.

Eren was gone. He was gone and Armin was in a strategic meeting and she was here. Sitting in front of a fire while the one squad mate she most wanted to (_run to_) avoid watched her, tawny eyes intent. His gaze was intense, calculating and though her head was bowed (_hide your tears, hide your weakness_)she could feel it as acutely as if they were maintaining eye contact.

Over the steady pulse of the fire crackling and her comrades sleeping, Mikasa heard Jean rise, fabric rustling and joints popping. Her heart clenched, he was leaving too. People always left. Left via the Titan's maws, by the hand of their own race, violently removing themselves from her little sphere of firelight. Out of habit, she tracked the noise of his footfalls, noting the steady cadence and sure footing, (_So_ like Jean himself) until the scuffed toes of his boots stopped directly in front of her.

"Mikasa, spar with me?"

Grey eyes widened beneath black bangs, and Mikasa brought her head up to meet the man's stare. He was reaching out to her, and the air seemed to crackle with tension. (Or was it electricity?) Her muscle memory screamed at her to run, adrenaline madly rushing through her veins. (_Too close, too close. Don't let him in; you'll never let him go._) But her heart said otherwise, in a voice more appealing to obey. (_He knows you're hurting, let it happen. You can't guard your heart forever.)_ Consciously overriding her automatic response, the girl took a deep breath and rose, bringing herself (_closer to Jean_) up to her full height. The hope that ignited in his eyes was instantaneous, and it sent a thrill through the petite girl. She could smell him, distinctly male and slightly spicy, his breathing so much more even than her own. There was a moment, heavy with tension, where she counted his inhalations and tried not to be too distracted by the way he wore his (standard issue, crinkled white.) shirt with the first few buttons undone.

She watched, transfixed, as his collarbone shifted and his pectoral flexed; allowing him to bring his arm up, and press the hand into the small of her back. Sharp eyes shot up to his, and the warmth (_determination_) she saw there shot another thrill right through her stomach. He smiled, and she was gone.

"C'mon, there's a good clearing just a little ways away."

(She leaned into his touch.)

* * *

Mikasa had always enjoyed the night, there was something in the hush. The way that all the sharp noise of daytime settled into a low thrum. Night was a time to collect yourself, to take a brief reprieve. Night was also a time to think, something the female has been trying to avoid in excess lately. Night was a time to remember the way he had looked at her, (tawny eyes _brightbrightbright_) following the curve of her neck and collarbones. Night was a time to come to terms with the fact that he was worming his way into her heart.

And it was true, in the months since their graduation Jean had steadily grown dearer to Mikasa. It had started simply with the way he had led their comrades, his voice confident and resonant and impossible to resist. Then it had progressed to slightly bigger things, soft smiles across the table when Eren was being particularly harsh. Quiet moments stolen in the morning before training when her hair was disheveled and the rationed out coffee their only consolation. Before she knew it, he was pressing careful touches to her back after missions, providing silent consolation while their comrade's funeral pyres rose towards the stars.

And now they were here. Eren gone, the Scouting Legion in a state of emergency, and her whole world crumbling around her like wall Maria.

But there was still Jean, and his hand was still pressing softly to the small of her back, the warmth radiating from that point was spreading through her system. (_Steadily pushing away the cold that had collected in her joints like rust on a hinge_) The two walked in comfortable silence, footfalls in sync and breathing nearly matched. Their eyes had adjusted to the darkness nicely, and the moon had begun its lazy ascent above the trees, lending its wan light to the scene.

Before long they broke through the thick foliage and into a clearing, ringed with old trees and just large enough to provide room for two to spar. It was far enough from camp to provide a sense of privacy, and close enough that should anything happen they'd be able to make a quick return. In a sense, it was perfect. Jean's hand fell away (_slowly, reluctantly_) and Mikasa immediately found herself missing the warmth. His strides were long as he brushed past her (hand lightly grazing her thigh, electricity crackling across her skin) and took up a defensive stance across from her.

Nodding once, Mikasa charged.

_Damn she was fast_, Jean thought as he blocked another swift blow to his abdomen, watching as she fluidly shifted gears into a jab at his kidney. (That he just barely avoided.) He and the young Ackerman had been sparring for the better part of an hour, and the distraught girl was showing no sign of fatigue. Her blows had an incredible amount of strength behind them, and when she realized that she was straying into dangerous territory, her retreat had an amazing amount of speed. She fell on him again and their eyes met, something sparked, and as Jean caught her fist (aiming for his nose, damn she was lethal) he felt a thrill shoot straight to his abdomen. The two broke apart again, flying towards opposite sides of the clearing. She watched him, eyes wide, shoulders tense. (She felt it too) They began to circle one another, eyes locked and skin burning.

_Dodge, attack, gain some ground, touch her again even if just to parry_

Jerking away from a fierce uppercut, Jean flung his weight to one side and aimed a kick at the woman's side, blow falling against her ribs. She hissed, and he gained ground, advancing with his heavy stare on her. (Keen eyes noted the way she watched his lean form stalk her, and something inside him roared.) He continued to observe her carefully as they sparred, making note of her wild eyes and erratic hits. Her control was slipping. A small fist came into contact with his jaw, and he thought he felt sparks (or was it just pain?) Warily backing away, Jean watched as the girl panted, jaw clenched.

Noticing him, Mikasa sprung away, snarled, and charged again.

_Attack, attack, try not to let his scent distract you, dodge_.

Mikasa could feel her control slipping away, like water through her fingers. It was inexorable, and as frustrating as the (attractive, so attractive) man in front of her. She knew her blows were becoming erratic, and more and more she noticed the way Jean's muscles would flex as he parried, or how his eyes hardened when he dealt a blow to her. An elbow came up to drive into the crook of her neck and she caught it (just barely), his scent was overwhelming, and as their eyes locked she fought the urge to gasp. Using the power in her legs, she launched herself upwards and flung him away, watching with fascination as he landed neatly and rose to his full height.

(Taller than her. So tall, tall and proud and _Jean_)

He was so different than what she was used to, a complete change of modality. All of Jeans hit were well calculated and accurate, landing without fail, and testing her parries through sheer force and integrity of attack. A complete one eighty from fighting with Eren.

Eren.

Gone.

Gone and left her behind. Left her to sit outside by the fire while the higher ups convened. Left her to cry and growl and feel helpless. Left her alone because of his stubborn righteousness and-

Mikasa charged again, a snarl ripping from her throat, all semblance of calm gone. Jean watched as she approached, (_head bent, breathing erratic, a last desperate attack_) the distance between them closing rapidly, he braced himself.

When the girl fell upon him, he took a step back, neatly absorbing the impact and circling his arms around her waist as she beat on his chest wildly, small fists impacting with more anger than force. Jean brought one hand up her back to cradle the back of her skull as he tilted her head towards him.

"Mikasa, look at me."

Wild grey eyes came to his own, and for a second they froze, tension crackling through the air again, and electricity playing across their skin. A breeze played through the clearing, rustling the trees, and mussing their already disheveled hair. Then, without preamble, Jean kissed her. His lips were slightly chapped, and tasted of sweat, but Mikasa found their pull completely irresistible. Leaning into his touch she fought the urge to whimper as he deepened the kiss, tongue brushing against her lower lip, teasing.

All too soon he pulled away, a slight smirk on his face, but before he could speak, Mikasa fisted small hands in his shirt and pulled him back again, a growl low in her chest.

Reacting on instinct, Jean fisted his hand in her hair and broke the kiss, tilting her head back and opting instead to press a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth before moving on to her neck. Mikasa groaned and set to work unbuttoning his shirt with jittery fingers, infinitely glad that their jackets (and her scarf, she wondered for a second if that had been symbolic) had been discarded earlier in their spar. Running out of bare skin, Jean brought both his hands down to her legs and (_hands hot, breath hotter) _murmured against her ear,

"Jump."

The dark girl did as she was told and when Jean lifted her up (with an ease that made her stomach clench) Mikasa instinctually wrapped her legs around his waist. Jean rewarded her with a quick kiss, before deftly maneuvering them to the nearest tree, pressing Mikasa's back up against the bark and bracing himself against it with hot palms. Once situated, Mikasa undid the last few buttons and hastily pushed the crinkled uniform shirt off his shoulders, hands and lips greedily moving to roam his chest. (_Undeniably masculine, with defined muscles and rough calluses from the maneuver gear setting the furnace in her abdomen aglow_.) He let out a groan and pressed his forehead against the tree, trying his best to keep calm. (Or as calm as he could while the woman he loved slowly explored his bare chest.)

As her lips worked along his left collarbone, her hands continued to rove across his torso, inexorably moving lower. (Muscles rippled and fluttered as she stroked them, steel as hard as her blades beneath the calloused skin.) As she neared the thick leather of his belt, Jean could take no more, and quickly removed his hands from the tree in favor of grasping her hips. (_She fancied she could feel them burning her skin, leaving a brand for all to see.)_ Arranging her soundly between his own hips and the tree, he then set to work undoing her own shirt, fingers quick and eager.

Bit by bit the starched white fabric was pulled back, and his lips moved to claim the new territory, licking and kissing and lighting her whole body on fire. Impatiently rushing through the last few, he brought her back off the bark (and her core into his, causing her to groan) to quickly pull her shirt away completely, letting it fall to the ground with his own. Lips met again, teeth scraping as the two came closer together, hands fisting in hair and groans falling across the night. Soon Mikasa found herself wantonly grinding her hips against his own as he bit and sucked at her neck. Deciding that enough was enough, Mikasa once again went for his belt buckle, and this time he put up no resistance (_he was too far past that, he wanted her more than ever before_) as she deftly undid it and moved onto the button of his pants.

"Mikasa," he groaned hotly, pressing his nose into her neck as her hands moved even lower, pushing pants and briefs out of the way before taking his length into her hands. Hands pressed painfully into the tree bark, as he panted roughly and bucked into her palm, giving in completely to her ministrations. Doggedly pulling the threads of his focus back together, Jean brought his hands away from the tree bark and took her thin wrists into his calloused hands, raising them up above her head before transferring them into his left.

A confused whimper left her lips before he softly pressed his lips to her own and let his right hand trail down across her toned abdomen, lightly brushing against muscle and ribs and feeling the wild pulsation of her core. The woman let an unfettered groan fall into his mouth as he undid her pants and slipped a hand inside, calloused fingertips rubbing and circling, exploring leisurely as she writhed beneath him. Sharp teeth dug into his lower lip as his fingers circled her opening, demanding attention, her grey eyes blazed at him through sweaty bangs.

"What do you want?" He asked as he smirked down at her, fingers continuing to tease.

"I- I want you, you bastard," the young prodigy snarled, tightening her legs around his waist.

Grinning, he pressed his lips to hers again before plunging his fingers inside, causing Mikasa to arch off the trunk and press his digits deeper. Keeping a steady rhythm with his fingers, Jean broke the kiss and slowly began to kiss his way down her front. Starting on her neck, he took a second to suck on her pulse point, crookedly grinning when a moan fell from her swollen lips, he moved on to her sternum, lightly pressing a kiss there before dipping down to where the tight black binding she wore blocked her chest from him. Slowing his fingers to an egregious pace, he pressed hot kisses to her breasts through the fabric, bright eyes intently watching her face.

All at once, he pulled his fingers from her and released her hands, pressing a kiss beneath her ear when she shakily wrapped them around his neck. Using this new position to his advantage, he quickly removed her pants and undergarments before pulling his own aside and pressing against her thigh as he had earlier. A hot palm brushed the hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear as he rested his forehead against hers. Their eyes met, and a soft smile spread across Mikasa's face.

"Do you want this?"

He asked, half afraid of the answer, heart beating wildly against his chest. (_He _loved_ her. More than anything. More than the world. If she said no now-)_

"Yes." Her eyes were hard and determined, boring into his with an intensity he'd only seen in battle.

Letting a grin break over his face, he kissed her again, heart soaring as her fingers tangled in his choppy hair. Cradling the back of her head in one hand, and guiding himself to her center with the other he kissed her again as he slowly pressed himself inside. Mikasa whimpered and squirmed, chest heaving as Jean entered her. Any discomfort faded though, as he swiftly descended upon her face and shoulders with reverent kisses, apologies falling against her skin like rain. A few moments passed before he pressed his forehead to hers again, brows furrowed.

"Ready?"

He asked, hands gently running up and down her sides.

She nodded and hid her face in his neck as his hips began to move. The pain faded quickly though, and soon the girl found herself arching into him once again, hands fisting in his hair and oaths pouring from her lips. His tempo increased and she thought she might die, right there in his arms, titans be damned. Their lips met again, and one rough hand descended to rub at her sex, winding the coil in her stomach tighter still as she cried out his name.

"Faster, please" she begged, head falling back as he muttered her name against her neck like a prayer. He complied and soon she was seeing stars, coil finally snapping and sending her over the edge.

Jean's control fractured along with her, thrusts erratic, breathing ragged and eyes closed tight as she clawed at his back and panted. Soon he was lost too, hips grinding to a halt as he came inside of her, breath hot against her neck.

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped around one another while sweat dried and their hearts slowed, the moon hanging high above them, it's soft light adding a glow to the scene. Mikasa was the first to move, fingers tenderly rubbing at his scalp as she shifted her back against the tree. Blinking groggily, Jean pulled her away from the rough bark and gingerly the two disentangled themselves. They dressed in silence, Jean yawning as he pulled on his pants, and Mikasa swaying slightly on her feet as she slipped into panties and buttoned her shirt. As nimble fingers reached the last few buttons, a pair of warm hands came to rest on her hips, gently pulling her back against a strong chest.

"I've wanted to do that for a while," he finally spoke, voice rough. (And far more attractive than it had any right to be.)

Mikasa smiled shyly and turned around in his arms, "I'd like you to kiss me again."

Jean chuckled low in his chest and complied, brushing a few stray locks of hair from her face and bringing his lips down to hers.

* * *

Mikasa didn't know what the future held, but she figured it would be bloody, and probably unpleasant. Come morning, she would have to debrief with her superiors and take action, strapping on her 3DMG and her blades. Come morning her walls would have to be rebuilt, allowing her to become the soldier Humanity needed her to be. (_Strong and cold and soso alone_) But as she sat in front of the dying fire with Jean's arms wrapped around her and the hush of night pressing at her ears, she thought that they'd have to be rebuilt with room for one more.

(_Wolves hunt best in packs, after all_)


End file.
